The firing line

It is always refreshing to read about the downfall of a high flyer. Goodness knows, top executives are paid so much, it feels almost thrilling to see one get his comeuppance every now and then.

So, for example, when Acme Widgets Inc. suddenly announces that its chief executive has quickly, and—from his standpoint—unexpectedly decided to pursue other opportunities, we wink, knowing the unfortunate fellow was reported to have commandeered the corporate jet to fly his girlfriend’s poodle to Palm Springs for the weekend, and deserves to go.

Top executives are getting fired more often. According to a Wharton School of Business survey, almost 25 per cent of Fortune 500 chief executives were fired in a recent 15-year period, about double the level of the previous period. And the firing language is getting a little blunter.

Take the case of Cliffs Natural Resources Inc. The company chair stated of previous management, “all these investments that the company made in Canada… were a disaster… I’m not the type of guy that’s too much of a Monday morning quarterback… But these are very clear. Misguided decisions all the way.” Which, as an excuse for a firing, only works if you’re not the person who hired the previous management. Otherwise, you’re just flinging mud at yourself. If the managers you fired were so bad, aren’t you just admitting that your judgment in hiring them stinks?

But it does set one to thinking of some corny standup comedy routine: Cliffs Chair: “You wouldn’t believe how bad previous management was—”Heckler: “How bad was it?” Cliffs Chair: “It was so bad, their golden parachutes wouldn’t open!”

The people I feel a little more sorry for are those in lower management who take the fall for performance failures while the most senior management types keep their own jobs. Take, as an example, professional sports coaches. If a team finishes in the bottom third or so of its league, it’s always the coach’s fault, and he is out on his ear. If the team finishes in the middle third of the pack, the coach is fired anyway, because the team is underperforming, the chemistry isn’t right and the coach isn’t fit to take the team to the next level. And if the team finishes in the top third, woe betide him next year, because any slippage is a failure to meet heightened expectations, so he’s out. Meanwhile, upper management gets the chance to bring in his own guy as coach and stave off his own firing—until that one doesn’t work out, either.

Then the wheel turns inexorably, as a one-time fired coach, after a suitable period of banishment, is eventually deemed to have the NHL coaching experience necessary to get an underperforming group of players going, and has now become the top candidate to become a miracle worker—at least until he is fired again.

Coaches must learn to take a zen-like attitude to the vicissitudes of employment. Recently fired Toronto Maple Leafs coach Randy Carlyle is reported to be “serene” and “relieved.”

Speaking of serenity, New York Knicks general manager Phil Jackson is a big proponent of meditation, mindfulness and living in the moment, and has taught the skill to his teams. The only problem is that the Knicks are sitting dead last in the NBA standings, with five wins and 36 losses. Either the timing is off—no, you dolt, don’t meditate during the game—or the communication is not great: “Say Phil, which moment is it we’re supposed to be living in again?” Then again, Jackson is not the coach, he’s the coach’s boss. So his job is safe—for a while.

But the employees I feel most sorry for are ones on the lower rungs of the ladder of success, about whom the ambiguous recommendation joke industry has been developed. You know, the “you will be lucky to get Mr. Smedley to work for you,” the “I remember Ms. Farnsworthy fondly as a former colleague” or the “Mr. Blodgins left an indelible mark on our firm” type of recommendation letter that has to be parsed carefully for its dual meaning to be revealed. The inability to obtain a clean letter of reference can be fatal to a young career; so I don’t derive much pleasure from the prospect.

And that chief executive who flew his girlfriend’s poodle to Palm Springs? Turns out the dog—a rottweiler— belonged to his mother, and was sent to Cleveland. So he sued, and won a big settlement. He’s planning to buy a hockey team with the money. And to ask Randy Carlyle to coach it. And then to fire him.

dsimmonds@wellingtontimes.ca